


A Pressing Conspiracy

by Gelsey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gelsey/pseuds/Gelsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus Snape is hired by the Ministry to investigate <i>The Quibbler</i> and its owner-editor, Luna Lovegood.   He finds much more than he ever expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pressing Conspiracy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sc010f](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sc010f/gifts).



“Mister Snape.” The voice slid around the door of Severus’ office, insinuating itself into his life again. It was about as welcome as a snake bite in the neck. Probably less so, Severus thought darkly as the scar itched. At least the snake bite hadn’t killed him.

“Underminister Dawlish,” Severus drawled, leaning back in his chair and smiling a smile that showed too many teeth. “My, what a pleasant surprise.” Sarcasm dripped from the last two words. 

The former Auror’s return smile was just as toothy if whiter and straighter. “As always, Snape.” He stalked into the office like he owned it, and for a moment Severus contemplated simply tossing him out, but he was admittedly curious about what would bring Dawlish all the way to Severus’ Private Investigations office.

“Are you here for a reason, John, or are you indulging in your need to stalk me again?” he asked after letting the man stand there awkwardly for a long moment. “I thought you’d stopped that after trying to arrest me for soliciting a minor.”

Dawlish flushed a ruddy red, anger and embarrassment mixing into a purplish color, like a particularly fresh and painful bruise. He’d been publicly humiliated shortly after the war when the young woman in question—not a minor—had sobered enough to tell him Snape had found her passed out and was helping her home.

Her hero, she’d slurred. Severus had a feeling that stung John more than the public reprimand.

“I’ve been ordered to hire you for something.” The words escaped from between clenched teeth, thoroughly chewed and spit out unceremoniously.

Severus grinned. It was a fierce look, both gleeful and dangerous. “Oh?” he prompted. No fun making it _easy_.

Dawlish ground his pearly white teeth audibly. “Yesss.” He swallowed and Severus thought he saw some pride sliding down his throat. Ah, this day was improving by the second. “There’s been some shady goings-on at _The Quibbler_ recently. The Ministry would like you to investigate.”

Severus raised a single eyebrow, a feat he’d long ago perfected. “I thought you had a whole _force_ of investigators on leash. Why not send your little pets on the project?” There was stony silence for a moment. Why _did_ Dawlish want him, of all people, to look into something?

Because it was something the Minister was personally concerned with and didn’t want getting around, he realized. Tiberius Ogden was a cagey fellow, very sly and extremely hard to pin down—especially considering the man had been a Ravenclaw decades upon decades ago.

Severus let the silence spool out uncomfortably. “It’s a delicate matter. You are better suited to the project than a more recognizable Auror,” Dawlish said stiffly. “Here are the details.” He tossed a folder unceremoniously onto Severus’ desk, messing the neatly stacked papers on it. 

“And my retainer?” Severus asked expectantly. “I _am_ getting paid.” It was a statement of fact, not a question. A jingling bag joined the papers on the desk. Severus didn’t let Dawlish go until he’d counted the entire sum.

~o0o~

_The Quibbler_ had offices housed in the Magical Press building, the floor above _Witch Weekly_ and below the _Daily Prophet_. At one point, it might have been in fear of being squashed between the egos of the two more popular publications, but Luna Lovegood had taken over the day to day running, boosting sales and popularity to become real competition.

Severus knew this, having done the preliminary research before staking out the building. He’d always disdained _The Quibbler_ ’s articles, but he’d been surprised to discover that, much like the improvement of the _Daily Prophet_ after new management, _The Quibbler_ had also cleaned house. Luna’s reign had begun with excising of the most ridiculous writers and with hiring Rita Skeeter as a lead writer in social and political commentary.

It was still a highly unique publication, Severus thought after reading some of the more recent editions—it focused on the most unusual, unique, far out things, experimental spells and potions, obscure history, little-known animals, and other information that was little researched.

Severus, heavily glamoured, was ‘filling in’ for a ‘friend’ at the Magical Press building, sorting through the owl-delivered mail. (Ralph Hinklepunk was actually quite enjoying a surprise day off with a few extra Galleons and the ‘request’ he stay well away from where anyone from work might see him.)

The job was more interesting than he ever suspected. The sheer variety of hexes on some of the mail was enough that he thought an Auror should be studying them. The biggest plus of the job, however, was that it gave him unrestricted access to the entire building as he delivered the mail, allowing him ample opportunity to assess the place and the personnel.

He made rounds through the _Witch Weekly_ offices and considered himself lucky to escape with his life. Actually having to smile and flirt with Lavender Brown was almost enough to make him want to go to the loo and open up his veins, though—he wasn’t getting paid enough for this. Play the part, he reminded himself.

The bile still burned the back of his throat, but he manfully swallowed it down and kept smiling.

He was thrilled to go up to the next floor, where the bright, airy offices of _The Quibbler_ bubbled with creative energy. It was like walking into a world created from the light refracted through a raindrop.

“I don’t recall following a leprechaun to the end of a rainbow,” Severus muttered, but the energy of the room seemed to steal the vitriol and leave him with a mild sense of amusement. He left the elevator and circulated slowly, setting mail on desks and observing his surroundings.

Bertram Aubrey, hair spiked and multi-colored despite being only a year younger than Severus, sat at his desk with his feet propped up, dictating an article that sounded suspiciously like an in-depth review of a charms experiment from the Department of Mysteries. So Dawlish’s suspicions that _The Quibbler_ was somehow involved in something shady against the Ministry actually might hold some water, after all. 

But treason? Well, he had plenty of research to do still.

He circled around the ring of outer desks and then around the smaller inner circle before finally heading toward the owner/editor’s office on one end. He didn’t have to knock because the door was already open, a dark-haired man leaving. It took a moment for Severus to recognize Theodore Nott, the Notice-Me-Not charm making him squint.

Now that was interesting. What was that young rascal doing in Lovegood’s office and why was he looking faintly nervous about it? 

Severus filed the thought away and entered the office with a smile on his glamoured face. “Mail call,” he said, his voice also charm-disguised.

Lovegood sat at her desk with her feet on it much like Aubrey, though her feet were bare and her toenails glittered a pale blue that matched her lightweight spring robes. The muscles of her calves flexed as her toes pointed—he only noticed because he was an investigator trained to notice the details.

The fact that they were quite shapely calves was completely beside the point.

She glanced up from the pad of notes she was reading as he entered. A pair of thin framed glasses that balanced elegance with eclectic perched on her nose. The brief glimpse of the notes he managed showed what looked like the shorthand from hell—he doubted he could decipher it given a few days, let alone a few seconds. He let his eyes skitter over the rest of the office, though he didn’t glean much information beyond the fact that she had travelled extensively, if the various masks and mementos hanging on the walls were any indication.

Severus set the mail on her desk and turned to leave. He could come back later and rifle through things—there was a night shift janitor who seemed amenable to bribery. He was nearly at the door when Luna spoke.

“Thank you, Professor,” she said, voice full of airy distraction. He stopped dead in the doorway.

“Excuse me?” he said quietly, gripping onto his cover tightly.

She looked at him, silvery eyes taking on the blue of her robes from behind the glasses. “Oh, I know you’re not a professor anymore, but what else am I to call you if you don’t bother to introduce yourself?”

Severus looked at her, shaken by her perceptiveness but trying not to show it. “Why was Nott here?” he asked, ignoring the more obvious questions. Like: How the hell did you know it was me?

She blinked, unperturbed. “My sources are always kept secret,” she said evenly, but then she smiled sunnily—something that made him blink in astonishment. “But truthfully, Theo was only visiting—I promised to lend him my compiled collection of Shakespeare. He’s rather reporter-shy, so he always comes bespelled.”

Either she was telling the truth, or he was still stunned from her bright smile. It was like she’d thrown a beam of pure sunshine at him. Still, he was being paid to be skeptical. Even if it was by Dawlish and Ogden. “Is that all?”

Luna tilted her head contemplatively, taking the glasses off and twirling them idly by the side piece. “We’re having a torrid affair,” she replied with a faint, playful smile.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, though the effect was drastically lessened with the round-cheeked persona he wore. “I happen to know that Theodore Nott is gay.”

She laughed, the tinkling of bells on a warm summer’s day, and swung her legs down from the desk. “So?”

“You’re a woman,” he pointed out dryly. 

“Excellent observation. I still say we’re having a torrid affair.” She leaned forward, arms resting on the desk, and her robes pulled in interesting ways across her breasts, emphasizing that observation.

See? Observant. There’s a reason to be looking.

The strangest thing about the already strange conversation was that he would swear she was telling the truth with every statement. But he also knew that she couldn’t be telling the truth. It was a puzzle, within an already existing puzzle.

How puzzling.

And she had managed to get him off his questioning. He opened his mouth to turn the conversation back around, but she beat him to it. “If you wanted to look around my offices, all you had to do was ask,” Luna told him matter-of-factly. “We’re not doing anything wrong here—legally, at least.” Her lips quirked and she looked mysterious as hell.

“Just what are you doing?” Severus asked despite his misgivings. 

“You’ll see,” she said, still smiling that damnable Mona-Lisa smile.

He huffed and left. He obviously wasn’t getting any more out of her right now.

Handing out mail wasn’t nearly as much fun anymore.

~o0o~

Severus stayed up the entire night, surrounded by the last three years’ worth of _The Quibbler_. This was no longer about Dawlish or money—he was completely caught up in the mystery of Luna’s smile.

He cut out the articles and sorted them by topic, copying the backs of pages so he’d have every article. One wall of the living room of his flat ended up papered with them. The wall was extremely crowded.

What could the Minister be so worried about? The publication was obviously eclectic, though very thorough, more than he remembered reading years ago. There wasn’t anything terribly troubling, except for some scathing—and perceptive—articles on recent laws, decrees, and political persons. He especially liked the one calling Dawlish a prejudiced puppet with an agenda he couldn’t read with a basic Translation spell. Written by… Luna, it seemed. His eyebrows climbed his forehead, again forced to confront the fact that _this_ Luna wasn’t like the Luna he’d taught a decade ago. She was sharper, tighter, more purpose-driven.

But what was the purpose? He sensed one hidden somewhere. It felt like he was seeing all the trees, but the broad picture of the forest was eluding him. It was infuriatingly frustrating while also being exciting. He hadn’t had a truly challenging mystery in years.

He finally went to bed sometime just after dawn. All-nighters were harder now than they used to be, and if he were to figure this out, he needed a clear head to do it with.

When Severus woke, he stumbled through his morning (or rather, early afternoon) routine and then sat down and opened up his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ directly to the Editorial section to read Blaise Zabini’s daily evisceration of current events.

He was two lines in when his smile turned into a frown and his eyes unfocussed, gaining a far-off look similar to that of Luna Lovegood. He stayed like that for a minute before standing abruptly and making a beeline for The Wall, tearing an article in his haste to get it off. He slapped it onto the table next to the Prophet and alternated in reading both of them.

It read like a fucking debate. The two played off each other, though not in a blatantly obvious manner. He would need past editions of the _Daily Prophet_ to confirm it, but his instincts told him he was correct.

But _why_? Once again there was the feeling of seeing all the damned trees but not being high enough to see the forest.

He needed to find the metaphorical broom to get above this situation.

~o0o~

Severus went into the offices of the _Daily Prophet_ a few days later. It’d taken much longer than he’d expected to study the editorials from the last several years. Not all of them connected to whatever the hell was going on, so it had taken much sorting and more than one headache from eyestrain.

This time he didn’t bother with a disguise. He swept into the offices in his still-favored black robes, though his hair was much shorter than it used to be and his face seemed more balanced with the well-cultivated goatee he kept. A few reporters looked up, and most stared. Many had, at one point, been his student or his school contemporary. Only a few of the youngest knew him only as a celebrated war hero.

The offices were different than those of the _Quibbler_. It was arranged in a bullpen-type situation, much like he knew the Aurors’ offices to be but without the cubicle partitions. Severus walked around the edge, ignoring all the gazes, and opened Zabini’s door without knocking. The editor’s secretary leapt up belatedly, protesting.

“Mister Zabini,” Severus drawled, shaking off the woman like he would a pest. 

The dark-skinned man looked up, expression something between amusement and annoyance. “It’s all right, Madge. I’ve been expecting him for the last few days.” The witch pinched her lips, an unattractive expression, and stalked from the room. “Well, that’s yet another assistant I’m going to have to fire for incompetence. Never going to find a good one,” Blaise muttered. “Might as well sit down, Snape.”

Severus did so, dark eyes taking in the editor. Sans robes with shirt sleeves rolled up and his desk covered in papers, Blaise looked… at home, he realized. Powerful and comfortable. It had been years since he’d seen the younger man, but time had only been good to him, it seemed. “Your mother must be pleased with your progress,” Severus said.

“Medea thinks I am working well below my potential, as always. She doesn’t see the power present in disseminating information.” Blaise tilted his head, sloe-eyes assessing as he looked at the former Potions master.

Severus had the feeling that Blaise was imparting a pearl of wisdom, wrapped in typical Slytherin subterfuge. Sometimes, he thought, he got tired of it. Wading through this sea of enigma-cloaked clues was challenging, but oh so frustrating. “Medea has always seen men as living below their potential,” he said instead of questioning the hidden advice. He tilted his head, mimicking the other man. “I’ve been following your recent editorials. You have some interesting points.”

Blaise leaned back, steepling his fingers as he contemplated Severus. “You haven’t come here to talk about my editorials,” he stated, amused.

Severus inclined his head slightly. “Not precisely. Since when has the _Prophet_ been debating with the _Quibbler_?” he asked bluntly.

“There’s a debate?” Blaise projected innocence, but Severus didn’t believe him for a moment. Anyone who had been around Medea long enough could lie like breathing.

“You know there is. What are you and Luna Lovegood up to?” 

Blaise smiled, a sharp expression, eager. He looked pleased to be connected with the Ravenclaw blonde. “It’s not my place to say,” he said. Mysteriously. 

Damned mysterious people.

It was useless, he decided, to pry at Blaise Zabini any longer. He’d learned what little Blaise wanted him to learn. He’d have to put it together and see what he came up with.

“I’m going to figure this out,” Severus told him as he rose and headed to the door.

“I can’t wait,” Blaise said as he watched him go.

Severus was almost too busy thinking on his way out to notice Theodore Nott skulking around the other side of the bullpen. Theo saw him and smirked as he entered Blaise’s office, firmly closing the door behind him.

~o0o~

Stalking Theodore Nott was simultaneously more boring and more interesting than Severus thought it would be. An appointment at a well-to-do tailor— _boring_ —was followed by a stop by a stylist’s— _vaguely amusing_ —and then a few hours in a bookstore—which would have been great, if he’d been allowed to browse instead of watching Nott read.

Three days later, Severus wondered if he was wasting his time. Part of him thought Nott knew he was being followed and was being deliberately eclectic and weird, but… well, the boy had always been odd, even at Hogwarts. He’d been to see Luna twice, though, with Severus spying through the window of her office. He’d watched the animated conversations avidly, Luna always gesturing with fingers that fluttered through the air emphatically. 

No spell he’d come up with had allowed him to hear them through her wards, however. His respect for her rose a notch.

On third night, Nott led him to a small building in the middle of London. Initially, it appeared to be a plain Muggle building until Severus drew closer—a small sign in the window read “The WW.”

The Wizarding Wireless.

It was starting to make sense. 

Disseminating information. Power.

The Ministry.

Images, snatches of conversation, the text of those articles… they whirled through his head, a storm of information that landed in patterns of partly decipherable debris.

A Minister worried about outsiders, indicating treason. Information challenging that power. Ogden forcefully going out of the Ministry to hire someone to investigate, so nobody else would know.

It was time, he thought, to have another talk with Luna Lovegood, the person he’d been aimed at. He abandoned his chase of Nott and Apparated back to his office.

~o0o~

He slid into the seat across from Luna at the popular eatery, _Nectar and Ambrosia_. Her eyebrows raised over the wine glass dangling carelessly from her fingers. Severus had the urge to reach over and tighten the grip, lest the wine start dripping out.

“Good evening, Severus,” she greeted lightly. “You don’t mind if I call you that, do you? After all, you still haven’t introduced yourself again.”

She was utterly unruffled by his sudden appearance. That irritated him somewhat, threw him off balance—something he didn’t enjoy. “Luna,” he greeted shortly, tacitly agreeing to her use of his name. 

“I’m glad you dropped by. I was wondering if we were ever going to talk face-to-face again, or if you were simply going to watch me through the window when Theo was around.” She smiled at him, that same bright expression he remembered. Between her lips and the information she so casually sprinkled in the conversation—things she shouldn’t have known, once again—he felt like someone had Stunned him. “Wine?” she offered, signaling to a passing waiter.

He took the glass numbly and took a long drink. At this point, he rather felt he deserved a drink or ten. “You baffle me,” he found himself saying, and then snapped his mouth shut before he could blurt out anything else.

Luna sighed. “I know,” she told him quietly. “But you like being baffled. It challenges you.”

For a moment, Severus felt like he was being insulted, but her gaze was steady and her smile almost… fond. And understanding. His lips twitched slightly and he nodded, a tiny tip of the head. He drank more wine, slowly this time. “You and Zabini are collaborating on something,” he said, musing aloud. “And Nott, somehow,” he added as an afterthought.

“What ‘thing’ do you speak of? Because I assure you, it’s only Theo I’m having a dashing affair with,” she said teasingly.

This time instead of taking it the wrong way—they were having some sort of business affair, he rather thought now, and they did seem to be friends—he smirked and rolled his eyes. The wine, he told himself. “This ‘thing’ with the Ministry,” he replied. “You’re both playing on the information you’re publishing. You’re arranging something I can’t quite see yet.”

Though he’d leaned close as he spoke, Luna waved a hand through the air negligently and he felt the wandlessly cast Muffliato come up, strong and steady. He blinked, secretly impressed. “I know you must have been watching the Ministry since the end of the war,” she said, twisting the conversation to another angle.

“Not much different than before the war. Different people, same idiocy,” he said, shrugging.

“Exactly!” she said. “After the war was the perfect opportunity to push change, to stimulate our society into a spurt of growth and creativity. But instead, everyone who had potential to do those things was pushed out of influential positions and business resumed as _usual._ ” Her hands danced and her cheeks warmed with passion as she spoke. “We’re stagnant, we’re static, and we’re dying because of it.”

Entranced, Severus watched her, but he also listened closely. Some of what she was saying was in her editorials already—but what it was saying was in Blaise’s editorials, too. And, he suspected, if he were to listen to some programs on the Wizarding Wireless, he’d hear it there as well. She continued, bright and sparkling, giving intelligent, concise examples, and he found his head nodding , found his lips moving in arguments and questions.

“I agree this is a problem,” he said finally, discovering with a jolt that some time during their discussion, a plate of pasta had been set before him and that he’d almost finished it. “But what is the goal? Overthrowing the Ministry?”

He’d meant it as a joke, but she looked at him seriously. “Not precisely, no.”

“What, then?” What was he getting himself into?

“Force the resignation of key members of the Ministry and replace them with our choices.” This matter-of-fact statement clicked everything into place. It made sense on a fundamental level—there was the damned forest, and it was a lovely, dangerous forest. “Better choices.”

“So it’s not quite treason,” he murmured, shaking his head. He rubbed a hand across his face, smoothing it down his goatee.

“No,” she said, eyes never leaving him. “Just legal blackmail of sorts.” Her lips quirked. “Interested in helping?”

Bloody hell. “Why not?” The waiter refilled their wine glasses again. “So who are your replacements? Not Hermione Granger-Weasley, I hope.”

“Not yet. Maybe in a couple of decades. For now we need someone that can straddle both worlds, a half-blood who cannot be accused of bias. Someone who will be strong enough to stand up for and institute change, without collapsing the structure of the pureblood world.” The hand with the wine glass waved again, though not a drop spilled.

“You’re almost Slytherin, plotting on the scale of years and decades,” he said admiringly. 

“Thank you,” she said with the primness of one who has had just a little too much wine, and then conversation shifted until the waiter cleared his throat, apologizing but saying they needed the table, please.

The couple rose, and Severus’ hand went to Luna’s back automatically as he led her from the restaurant, and the warm summer air engulfed them. Outside they hesitated, but Luna slipped her hand into his and said simply, “Escort me home, please.”

Of course he knew where she lived at this point—he’d been investigating her for a while now, after all. The Apparition wasn’t difficult despite being tipsy. She stopped just outside the door of her odd-looking little bungalow and turned toward him. Her free hand raised and her thumb brushed down the side of his goatee, smoothing the hairs there. She looked very thoughtful, and he wondered what she was thinking.

“I’m glad you joined me tonight, Severus,” she said softly. He didn’t move, didn’t think he could, and he had no idea of what to say. Apparently, he didn’t need to say a thing; Luna leaned forward, swaying onto tiptoe, and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

So, that was what was going through her mind. It wasn’t anything he’d expected, though all the clues had pointed that way.

“Luna…” His voice came out surprisingly husky.

“Shhh.” Her fingers moved to cover his lips. Luna grinned up at him. “I’ll see you later,” she whispered, giving him a playful wink before leaning up once more, kissing him directly through her fingers, and then she turned and slipped inside before he could react.

~o0o~

Severus visited the Ministry the next day, lips still carrying the phantom tingle of Luna’s kiss. He went straight to Dawlish’s office, silence falling before him like a red carpet. He brushed past the secretary as he barged through the door.

“My report,” he said, tossing it down in front of John, deliberately toppling piles of paperwork. 

Dawlish sneered at him. “What does it say?” He didn’t bother opening the thin folder.

“That you and Ogden are insane for thinking that Luna Lovegood is committing treason, and that if you kept on better terms with the press you’d have better luck in office. Next time, use some common sense,” Severus snapped, insults falling from his lips easily. He spun on a heel to leave.

“Oh, and make certain to pay the remainder of my bill. It’s right on top.” Chuckling to himself, he left as quickly as he’d come. He had the distinct feeling his satisfied smile scared several people on his way out.

~o0o~

From then on, Severus found himself in the company of Luna Lovegood more often than he expected. Sometimes it was by design—owls sent and received—and sometimes he merely dropped in on her in his usual abrupt manner. He never found himself unwelcome.

Most surprising part was that she took to dropping in on him in the same way. Sometimes at the oddest hours, in the oddest places. She had the uncanniest knack for finding where he was staking out someone for a case and bringing him hot, dark coffee.

There were even the occasional dinners with Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and the third member of what Severus dubbed ‘the core Ministry resistance group’ – Lee Jordan, the Wizarding Wireless contact. It was during one of those dinners that Severus finally broke down and asked Luna, “However do you know each other?”

Blaise and Luna shared an amused look—one that bespoke of familiarity and fondness. Severus suppressed a surge of jealousy that faded when Luna’s hand covered his. “Blaise’s mum is an especial friend of my father. Has been on and off since after my mum died.”

Severus’ jaw dropped. “Medea and Xenophilius?”

“Yes, it makes my head hurt too,” Lee Jordan said from his comfortable spot next to Theo. “I guess Aunty Medea has always had bad taste in men.”

Severus rubbed his forehead, feeling consternated that he hadn’t figured it out before. “And you?” he asked pointedly at Theodore.

“I’ve been friends with Blaise since I was Sorted in Slytherin. Luna and I studied together at school, sometimes. And Lee and I, well…” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, earning a smack from his… lover?... and indulgent looks from the other two.

“Don’t worry,” Luna leaned over and whispered into his ear. “Nobody else ever figured it out, either.” A kiss on the cheek smoothed out his scowl, though it earned him some nagging from the other three.

Somehow, Severus didn’t mind. Luna filled his senses and acted as a beautiful buffer between him and the world.

~o0o~

Severus sat at the kitchen table in Luna’s little bungalow. Months had passed, the cycles of moon turning and changing with little notice. He could hear the shower going; Luna must have finally crawled out of bed. He thought briefly about going to join her, but after earlier this morning he wasn’t sure he was up for another round so soon. He wasn’t young any more, as much as he wished he were now that Luna was in his life.

He opened the _Daily Prophet_ , and the headline jumped out at him: OGDEN AND DAWLISH RESIGN UNDER THREAT OF SACKING; below that, WIZENGAMOT RUMORED TO ASK SEVERUS SNAPE TO RUN FOR MINISTER. Well, if it hadn’t been a rumor already, it was now, he thought.

Severus choked on his coffee. “LUNA!” he yelled, heading toward the bedroom.

“Yes?” she said in her imperturbable manner, coming from the shower wrapped in a towel that was quite distracting.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, holding out the paper to her and trying not to notice the droplets of water still clinging to her shoulders. Damned investigator’s senses.

“Oh, good. I knew it would be soon,” she said, obviously pleased with herself. At his dismayed look, she asked, “You didn’t think we wanted Harry for the job, did you?”

Sometimes he swore she read his bloody mind. “But… but!”

“Oh, don’t worry. You’ll do a brilliant job. You’ll see.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the snuna_exchange on LJ several years ago for sc010f :)


End file.
